


The Freakum Dress

by HappyHappyReader



Series: Abbie Mills and the Minister [2]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18810943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyHappyReader/pseuds/HappyHappyReader
Summary: Abbie and Ichabod meet for dinner and Abbie decides to pull out her freakum dress...this is an outtake of Abbie Mills and the Minister.





	The Freakum Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a gift for nurseya33. Best of luck finishing up your training. We are all rooting for you!

Reverend Ichabod Crane came very close to choking on the water he sipped as he sat at the bar of a Tarrytown’s only five-star restaurant. Abbie walked out of the elevator, a vision on the hot, sultry summer evening. They’d agreed to meet at the restaurant since Abbie had to work an unexpected Saturday afternoon shift.

He stared at the dress underneath her light-weight, buttonless coat. By all the Good Reverend Crane held Holy, he was challenged to call the halter top, fire-engine red, form-fitting cloth that came to her knees simply a “dress”, it fit her petite form to such perfection. Added to that, the high-heeled, strappy black sandals made Abbie’s legs look a million miles long.

Ichabod knew Abbie’s curves by touch alone, having had the absolute gift from God of being intimate with her these last six months.  But this was different…this was not the casual jeans and t-shirt Abbie who was unconscious, yet gloriously sexy. This was an Abbie that wanted to eat him alive and spit out his bones.  Ichabod knew he wouldn’t mind if she did…not one bit.

“Hello Ichabod,” Abbie stood by his bar seat as she smiled at him, a knowing gleam in her chocolate brown eyes as she kissed him with a soft peck, “Sorry I’m late. Took me minute to decide what to wear.”

Ichabod found that not only had _all_ the blood rushed to his groin, but he’d lost the ability to speak – a problem for a man who planned to ask a very important question later this evening. He inhaled and tried again, “Of course, Treasure,” his attempt came out more a croak than anything, “you’re not late. I am simply a bit early. No need to apologize.”

“Good,” her radiant smile stopped his breath, “would you help me with this coat? I want to check it.” Abbie put her small clutch down on the bar, turning her back to Ichabod.

“Oh, of course,” he proclaimed, rising from his seat, embarrassed that his love had to actually _ask_ him to do something that’d been second nature to him since the day they’d met, “forgive my -,” Ichabod removed the coat from her shoulders and almost swallowed his tongue _. ”God, give me strength,”_ the back of the dress was a criss cross of ties, revealing seeming acres of brown, smooth, soft skin that begged him to forget his was a minister, forget they were in public, forget _everything_ except how much he desperately wanted to loosen the ties and kiss his way down her spine until he got to the end…just above the curve of her ass. Ichabod moaned softly, barely getting out the next words, “manners. _Please_.”

Abbie turned back around, taking the coat while giving him the sweetest, most innocent of smiles, “No worries, babe. Just let me check this.”

As he watched Abbie walk away, Ichabod tried to regain control of his body before giving up entirely…watching her walk towards him had been difficult enough…but watching her walk away…the curves…the sway of her hips…how she pulled her hair to the side to rest on her shoulder as she handed the coat to the attendant revealing the full length of her back to his examination…he just… _gave up_.

“You know, you _can_ get your meal to go,” the bartender said behind him.

“Beg pardon?” Ichabod turned back toward the young woman, confused.

“You can get your meal to go,” the bartender repeated, “Look, all I know is if my woman was wearing a freakum dress and looking at me like _that,_ five-star dining experience be damned, we’d be eating it later,” she glanced over at Abbie walking back from coat check, “… _much_ later,” Sophie shrugged and winked before turning towards another customer, “Up to you.”

“What’s up to you, baby?” Abbie asked as she reached Ichabod’s side.

Ichabod sighed, “Nothing, Treasure. Let’s go to our table.”

Abbie put her hand on Ichabod’s chest, stopping him, “No, it’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“Do you really want to know?” Ichabod’s voice dipped into his bass as he stepped into Abbie’s personal space, held her hand against his chest and loomed over her even _with_ the three-inch heels she wore, “Because I find I _really_ want to tell you.”

Brown eyes locked with blue. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against the hand that held her, “Don’t just tell me. _Show me_.”

____________________

 

“I can’t believe we didn’t even make it to the bedroom.” They were spread out, naked on the living room floor of Ichabod’s apartment, both breathing heavily, trying to recover.

Ichabod looked over at Abbie by his side, “I wish I could say the same, but frankly, with the way you looked in that dress, it was practically a miracle we made it out of the car - and don’t try to deny it -  I know you did that _completely_ on purpose.”

Abbie laughed and rolled over onto Ichabod, rubbing her breasts against his chest hair, not even bothering to lie, “Why Reverend Crane! What would the congregation say?”

“They’d say it’s high time I let you make an honest man of me,” Ichabod pulled her closer with a chuckle of his own, thankful for the soft Persian rug under his back.

“Are you saying I have to marry you?” Abbie smiled up at him.

“Well,” he started, reaching out his left arm to feel for his sports coat and the small box he knew still had to be in the pocket, forcing Abbie to sit up to accommodate his movement.  Crossing her legs, she asked “What is it, baby?”

Ichabod found the box and pivoted, rising up on one knee in a fluid motion, “Grace Abigail Mills, I would never presume to tell you that you _must_ marry me, but I would be eternally honored if you would.”

“Ichabod!” Abbie exclaimed, looking from the box to his face, “You’re proposing to me.”

“I am.”

“We’re naked.”

“We are.”

“On the living room floor.”

“Indeed.”

“We didn’t even eat dinner at that fancy restaurant.”

“The ‘to go’ bag is by the door.”

Abbie tried to rake her fingers through her hair – to no avail…her curls were matted from their exertions – and she wouldn’t have been able to say where her dress had landed when Ichabod flung it over his shoulder, “Oh my God, you’re proposing and I must look crazy right now,” Abbie brought her hands up to her hair and face, trying to restore some semblance of order.

“You look beautiful. As always,” Ichabod still knelt, arm extended with the small box open, waiting, “But you have yet to answer my question.”

“What?” Abbie replied, “I didn’t?”

“No.”

“You sure?” Abbie shook her head slightly with an under-the-breath, “ _Fuck me_.”

“I believe I would remember,” Ichabod smiled at the love of his life. It was not often she was so flustered.

Abbie finally looked down at the box, seeing the pretty diamond ring nestled within. It was large enough to matter, but small enough that it wouldn’t interfere with her daily activities. It was _perfect_ , “Oh, Ichabod, the ring is _so_ beautiful.”

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said with sincerity, “but Treasure, you _still_ haven’t said if you’ll accept it.”

Abbie looked into his eyes, shaking her head to clear the fog, “Yes! I’ll accept it! Yes!” Ichabod stood and gathered Abbie, lifting her clear off her feet, kissing her deeply before setting her on back down to place the token on her left hand.  The ring was a perfect fit, just as Abbie knew it would be.  “But Ichabod Crane, we can never – and I mean _never_ – tell our children that you proposed to me while we were naked on the living room floor.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned with mischief in his eyes, pulling her more tightly into his arms, “It can’t be any worse than when we discussed your clit.  I recall ‘Sweet Baby Jesus’ was involved.”

Abbie answered his grin with one of her own, holding the engagement ring up to the light, “True, but we’re not telling them  _that_ story either. No way in hell.”

Just then, Rufus came out of the bedroom. She observed the pair, standing naked and grinning at each other in the dimly lit room - and went right back to her cat bed with a yawn, a stretch and a swish of her tail…unbothered and unimpressed by the antics of her humans.


End file.
